The Woman at 72 Derry Lane

by Carmel Harrington

  Thirty minutes later they were sitting down with boxes of korma and tikka masala curry, rice, bombay aloo and naan bread on the dining-room table between them. Rea watched Stella spoon a tiny dollop of the curry onto her plate and half a spoon of rice.

  ‘He’s not here. You can eat what you want in my house.’

  Rea loaded her plate up, extra full to make her point, and then started to tuck in.

  Stella realised how much Matt had institutionalised her. Even when he was away, she’d pretty much stick to his rules and his meal plan. She leaned over to grab the container of korma and heaped a large portion on her plate, then picked up the naan bread and dunked a large chunk into the sauce.

  Rea smiled as she watched her attack her food with pure gusto. ‘Slow down!’ She warned.

  ‘Oh I’m sorry, am I being a pig?’

  ‘Yes and it’s a joy to see. Eat up as much as you want. Just don’t give yourself a stomach ache. There’s lots more where that came from. And do me a favour, would you stop saying sorry? By my reckoning, you’ve uttered more than three apologies in the past hour alone.’

  ‘Have I? Oh, I’m sorry,’ Stella apologised again.

  Rea raised her eyebrow and Stella laughed, saying, ‘It’s a disease. I can’t help myself.’

  ‘You spend so much of your time apologising to Dickhead that it’s become second nature to you now. No wonder you can’t help it.’

  ‘You’re a clever one, Rea,’ Stella said softly. ‘You have his number and mine, I suppose.’

  ‘I have my moments. Better at understanding others’ problems, than my own.’

  ‘What problems are they?’ Stella asked.

  ‘Do you know what? I think I fancy a glass of wine,’ Rea said, changing the subject. She stood up to grab a bottle of Shiraz from the wine rack, pouring them two large glasses.

  ‘This is such a treat,’ Stella said. ‘I can’t remember the last time we got a takeaway.’ She then did a pretty decent impersonation of Matt’s south Dublin drawl, ‘Way too fattening, loike.’

  They laughed a little, then ate in companionable silence for a few minutes.

  ‘A little of what you fancy doesn’t do anyone any harm. The thing that I don’t get is that there’s none of you in it. You’re tiny! I reckon I could put my two hands around your waist,’ Rea said.

  ‘That’s one of Matt’s yardsticks. He likes to do that,’ Stella replied.

  ‘You are winding me up,’ Rea asked, mid-mouthful.

  ‘Unfortunately no. He says that he’s created the perfect version of me,’ Stella shrugged sadly.

  Rea once again was rendered speechless. Well, almost. ‘Ah here, this is bonkers.’

  ‘He tells me what I’m allowed to eat every day. He doesn’t like me to go over 1000 calories as a rule during the week, and I’m allowed 1200 at the weekends. Takeaways are ‘empty calories’, so he has strong feelings about them. He likes all his food cooked from scratch. He likes to know what goes into everything.’

  ‘Unbelievable.’

  ‘No. I’m afraid it’s true.’

  ‘Well, you get an extra spoonful of Bombay aloo for that,’ Rea said, spooning more onto her plate.

  ‘I ordered a takeaway once, when he was working late. I had prepared a quinoa salad for us, as agreed. But he called and said he wouldn’t be home for dinner. So I thought, to hell with it, I’d treat myself. I had this longing on me for a Chinese. Sweet and sour chicken, the sticky one, with fried rice. I’d not had one for years.’

  ‘We’ll have that the next time,’ Rea promised. ‘Go on, what happened?’

  ‘Well, I knew he wouldn’t approve, of course, so I was careful to leave the windows open. No tell-tale odours to give the game away. I even threw the empty cartons straight into the bins outside so he wouldn’t see them in our trash. I knew, as I was doing all of that, how crazy it was. But back then I persuaded myself it was just one of his quirks, a tad controlling, but at least it showed he cared. I was an eejit.’

  ‘We’ve all been eejits at times,’ Rea said.

  ‘Well, that meal never tasted so beautiful. Every mouthful was a delight. I’d been eating salads for ages, I’d nearly forgotten what it was to taste something so aromatic.’

  ‘I’m kind of guessing where this is going. What happened?’

  ‘I suppose it was the first time I realised the depth of his manic control. He came home and I could smell beer on his breath. He’d had a couple with one of his colleagues when they left the office. As soon as he walked in the door, I could sense this weird energy leaping out of him. He said he was feeling peckish, so I jumped up to make him a sandwich. He was hovering as I opened the fridge. He does this thing when he’s annoyed, he grimaces and makes this growl through his teeth. Well, I knew straight away I’d made a mistake. There was my quinoa salad, untouched.’

  ‘What was the big deal over that?’ Rea asked, her fork stalled beside her mouth, waiting to hear what happened.

  ‘You see, when he came in, he asked me what I ate for dinner and I said the salad.’

  ‘Oh shit.’

  ‘Yep. He walked to the bins, checked them. Never saying a word, but his face was getting more annoyed by the second. Then he walked outside to check the bins out there too. He was like a dog after a bone, no way was he stopping till he found evidence of my so-called “betrayal”.’

  ‘He’s a complete and utter psycho. All over a bit of salad. Go on, what did he do?’

  ‘He punched me in the stomach so hard that I threw up. Then he stood over me while I cleaned it up, all the time shouting at me, berating me for being a liar. I coped better with the pain of his fists than his words. He’s a master at making me feel rubbish about myself. One minute I’m indignant at his unreasonable behaviour, the next I’m apologising because I’ve made such a mess of things. Lying to him, making him so annoyed.’

  Rea watched Stella play with her food. This wouldn’t do. The one night she had ‘off’ from him, and here they were giving him air time. She wouldn’t let him ruin their meal.

  Rea poured a second large glass of wine for them both, then said, ‘Listen, pet, there’s no one here checking bins or fridges, there’s just me. You enjoy that dinner and next time you come, we’ll have shredded chilli chicken and the sweet and sour for good luck too, okay?’

  ‘I like the sound of that.’ Stella reached over and touched Rea’s hand lightly. ‘You’re very kind.’

  They sat in comfortable silence, eating and drinking, moving to the couch in the sitting room when they were finished. Stella’s mobile rang and she answered it quickly, motioning with her finger on her lips for Rea’s silence.

  ‘Hello Matt. Yes, I’m at home. Yes. Yes. I’ll just read for an hour then I’m straight to bed. Yes. Goodnight. I love you too.’

  A short conversation with that man and Stella’s shoulders had tensed, her face looked pinched once more.

  ‘You must think I’m very weak,’ Stella said.

  Rea shook her head. Who the hell was she to judge anyone? ‘Not in the least.’

  ‘It’s just, sometimes things can creep up on you and, before you know it, you’re in so deep, you just can’t find a way to get out.’

  ‘I understand that feeling. Have you been married a long time?’

  ‘No. A little over a year. I was a bit of a mess when I met him. I had been overdoing it, partying too much. I don’t think I was taking very good care of myself.’

  ‘Any particular reason?’ Rea asked. She was surprised. Stella didn’t look like someone who was ever let loose, drank too much.

  Something flashed across Stella’s face, but she just shrugged and said, ‘I got into the habit of it, I suppose. Partying hard. I’d been travelling for a long time, then found it hard to be home again.’

  ‘My children, Luca and Elise, both went to University College Dublin, but they lived at home, not on campus. I’m not naive, I know that they went drinking, and they came home drunk more than once, but at least they came home t
o me at the end of the night. George and I never minded them letting off steam, as he put it, the odd time. Just as long as they came home.’

  ‘Your children are very lucky to have you.’

  Rea wasn’t so sure about that. In the end, she let them all down one way or the other.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Stella could see Rea was upset about something. She must have hit a nerve. ‘Did I say something wrong? I’m really sorry if I did.’

  ‘I told you already, stop apologising. You’ve done nothing wrong. I want you to practise NOT saying sorry for me.’

  ‘Sir, yes sir!’ Stella joked and they laughed.

  ‘Let’s go back to yer man. Tell me about when you met him,’ Rea asked.

  ‘Well, at first, he was lovely. Charming, loving, funny. I was feeling very sorry for myself. I was away for so long, I’d lost touch with all my childhood friends. And when I came back, I had hoped that some of them might be interested in catching up. But it didn’t work out. Then, being back home in my parents’ house, well, let’s just say there were ghosts all around me. Matt made me feel cherished and loved. I thought I could see a future with him. Maybe even a family of our own one day.’

  ‘When did it all go wrong?’ Rea asked.

  ‘If I look back now, without rose-tinted glasses, I can see that there were many red flags even from day one. Warnings, if you like. But I valiantly ignored them. It’s amazing the clarity you can get with the benefit of hindsight.’

  ‘What kind of red flags?’ Rea asked.

  ‘He started to make comments about my caffeine habit. That was probably the first one.’

  ‘You make it sound like you were addicted to crack cocaine! You were drinking too much tea?!’

  ‘Yes, but more than that, it was the sugar I put into it that bothered him the most. Two spoons, I used to take. That’s how my dad drank it too, with a drop of milk. I drink my tea black, just like my mam used to. Funny how little habits are formed isn’t it?’ Stella’s face softened in memory for a moment, thinking about shared cuppas with her family.

  Rea reckoned Stella’s family would be furious if they knew what she was going through. She wondered if there was a way to get in touch with them. Maybe she’d broach the subject.

  ‘He’d make remarks each time I’d make a coffee or tea. Little digs about how evil sugar was, how fattening, how dangerous. If we were in Starbucks or somewhere like that, he’d get me my skinny cappuccino, but would never put sugar in it for me. When I’d get up to get it, he’d sigh and his mood would change. And I didn’t like that. I wanted him to be happy. I wanted to make him happy. I loved him. Then one day he arrived saying he had bought me some sweetener, a solution to my sugar addiction. He was all excited about his gift.’

  ‘You hardly had a sugar addiction! Were you overweight or something back then?’

  ‘Gosh no. But I was heavier than I am now.’

  ‘That would be no harm. You’re too thin now. There’s not a pick on you.’

  Stella shrugged again.

  ‘How did that make you feel, when he gave you the sweeteners?’

  ‘At first I was a bit put out. It annoyed me. But then I thought maybe I was being unfair. He was just being thoughtful. To go to the trouble of thinking about that for me, well I was lucky to have someone in my life who cared so much.’ Stella shook her head at the naivety of herself. ‘And it seemed like the most ridiculous thing to argue over. Sugar, for goodness sake. I mean, there were people dying all over the world from crazy things, what the hell was I doing making a big deal out of how my coffee tasted?’

  ‘True. But the thing about small things is that soon they add up to big things. And big is not always beautiful.’

  ‘That’s for sure,’ Stella nodded, sipping her wine.

  ‘Elise went through a phase once, all worried about her weight. She insisted on us all using sweeteners. But for me they leave a shocking aftertaste. We lasted no more than one day, I think, before the bag of sugar was back in the cupboard again.’

  ‘I couldn’t stand the taste either. I just stopped using either of them. It was easier to do that than continue disappointing him. And it made him happy. He was clearly delighted with my decision. For a while after that, it was all good again between us.’

  ‘You wanted to make him happy. That’s natural in any relationship.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose it is. Now, I fantasise about inventing a time machine, so I can go back to that day and tell him to shove his sweeteners where the sun don’t shine!’

  ‘There’s still time for that!’ Rea laughed.

  ‘You know what he bought me for our first Christmas together?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He gave me this box, all wrapped up with gorgeous paper and a big red bow on it. I thought it was going to be jewellery. It was the receipt for the gym membership he’d paid for! The disappointment was crippling when I opened the gift.’

  ‘He might as well have given you bathroom scales. What an awful gift to give anyone, never mind a young girl.’

  ‘Yep, up there with giving your wife a set of pots and pans, isn’t it? You know, the crazy thing is, I was only ten stone. That’s all. Hardly overweight. But he made me feel huge,’ Stella said quietly.

  Rea flushed, thinking of the last time she’d weighed herself. She had seen the scales flash up a number that started with fourteen stone. She dreaded to think what it would say now.

  Stella then said, ‘He convinced me that I should tone up, get fit, that it would be fun to do it together.’

  ‘Hmm, not so sure about how much fun he’d be as a gym partner!’ Rea said.

  ‘Let’s just say that I’ve had a better time having root canal treatment,’ Stella answered.

  ‘Well you deserve more wine for that.’ Rea filled her glass up again, emptying the bottle as she did so. She grabbed another while Stella continued her story.

  ‘Then Matt suggested I move in with him. Tenants had been found for my house and I wasn’t happy there anyhow. Not the same without my family there too. Again, another decision that I regret. Things got worse once I was living with him. He began to get inside my head. He had me all confused about how I saw myself. I no longer believed that my natural weight was an acceptable one. He kept commenting about my clothes, about how they would look so much better if I were just a few pounds lighter. When he started to write down a diet plan for me each day, I found myself feeling grateful for his “help”.’

  ‘That’s all kinds of wrong. I don’t even know how to respond to that,’ Rea said.

  ‘Yep. I just couldn’t see what he was doing. He’d messed with my head so much, he made me not trust my own judgement any more. So, I lost weight, and every pound I lost, he’d tell me how beautiful I looked and that I was almost “there”.’

  Rea remembered the one and only time she’d had a conversation with Matt. He’d called at her house to collect a parcel that she’d accepted on their behalf, as they were out. And so she’d make an effort, got dressed, even put on some make-up, in preparation for when they called. She’d decided she’d invite them in for a cup of tea, be neighbourly. But of course none of that happened. Matt took one look at her and she could tell that he’d lost interest in her immediately. In that look she knew there would be no friendly chit chat with this one. Knowing a little bit more about who he was now, she could only guess what he thought of her. If he thought Stella was fat at ten stone, he must have thought Rea was obese.

  ‘I hate eating in front of him now. Every mouthful I chew, I know he’s watching, judging, calculating. And somewhere, as I allowed his crazy, unhealthy ideas about food and body image to get under my skin, into my head, I forgot who I was. I knew that it was wrong. But I … oh it’s so hard to describe, Rea. The best way I can say it is: I lost myself.’

  Rea didn’t know why, but that statement made tears spring to her eyes, stinging them.

  Rea stared at the beautiful young woman in front of her and her face blurred and disappeared; in its plac
e Elise, her daughter, appeared. Stella and Elise, both lost.

  ‘Oh Rea, you’re crying. What’s wrong?’ Stella asked in surprise.

  ‘I’m just sorry that this happened to you,’ Rea partly lied, wiping away the tears.

  ‘Me too,’ Stella whispered.

  ‘When did he start hitting you?’

  ‘That didn’t start until after we got married. I tell myself that I wouldn’t have married him had he done that before. That I’d have run and not stopped until there was a country between us.’

  ‘Men like him know what they are doing. He wanted you to be his before he truly showed you who he was,’ Rea said.

  Stella nodded and closed her eyes as she remembered. ‘It was on our wedding night. He chose my dress, you know. Not many grooms insist on picking the bride’s dress, but my husband did. As there wasn’t anyone else queuing up to do this anyhow, I thought why not? He also chose my underwear and my wedding shoes. Fourinch heels, Louboutins, “only the best for me,” he said. They were beautiful, but so uncomfortable that they made my feet bleed.’

  ‘I’ve never owned a pair of expensive shoes,’ Rea murmured, but noted how Stella had said she’d nobody else to help choose her dress. Where was her family?

  ‘Did your family not want to help you?’ Rea couldn’t imagine a reason good enough for her not being with Elise to choose a wedding dress. A stab of pain pierced her, threatening to undo her, so she took a deep breath and refocused on Stella’s words.

  ‘They’re overrated, I promise you! And because of them, inadvertently they caused much more than my feet to bleed.’

  Rea noted that Stella ignored her question about her family.

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘Well, I changed from them into a pair of kitten heels, after the ceremony. I mean, they were under my dress, no one could see them. But Matt was so cross with me. I noticed a change in him, but couldn’t work out what I’d done. He went cold on me, smiling at our few guests. But his nails dug into the palms of my hand when he held them. His hand on the nape of my neck squeezed me a little too hard. I was confused, shocked, desperate to find out what I’d done to cause him to be so cruel. When we went to bed, when I undressed, he watched me, not saying a word. Then he picked up one of my Louboutin’s and threw it at me, ferociously. It hit me on my stomach, the heel cutting me, bruising me.’